I dreamed rather extensively about my dad (who died in 2005) last night. Among other things, I told him that when I travel, I sleep in the cargo hold of buses to save money.
The central theme of the dream seemed to be about me calling him on the phone as I was completing a leg of a hiking and climbing race at Canyonlands, on a volcanic trail I’d never seen before. After finishing the call, I went on to win the race.
Back at home, I wanted to show him my route, but my backpack is full of irrelevant maps and a large amount of various calibers of ammunition. I try to ask Abby where the correct map is, but she is planning an elaborate dinner party, which appears to be early-70s themed.
